


Burn

by Sira



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the kingdom Carol finally opens up to Daryl, allowing herself to feel the pain buried for way too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my story 'Compass'. One doesn't have to read it to understand this story, though. It was written for the Nine Lives challenge 'Thy Kingdom Come'.
> 
> Thanks so much again to serpetinefire, who agreed to be my beta reader once again. All remaining mistakes are mine!
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I can hear you cry  
From behind the door of your troubled mind  
You locked yourself inside  
A lonely prison of your own design

Burn - Toto

 

"I killed Lizzie."

The words cut through the silence between them and he stops in mid-movement. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands lingering over his shoelaces. Still bend-over his eyes meet hers as she watches him trying to comprehend the meaning of her words.

She knows what he’s thinking, what he wants to think, that she killed Lizzie to save her from being devoured alive from a walker or to stop her from turning after she was already dead. He doesn’t understand, but how could he?

"I… told her to look at the flowers and then shot her."

It's been three days since Daryl arrived here, three days since he fucked her. She's loathed to call it 'making love'. She's in no frame of mind to make love to anyone. It’s been three days of Daryl lingering near her, telling her time and again he won’t go anywhere without her.

She hasn’t let him close again, has hardly spoken to him and it hasn’t faced him. He talked to Ezekiel, has gotten a small room right next to hers and there he would stay until she gave in or managed to send him away. She has to send him away for his own best. She’s never been good for anyone and everyone she cares for seems to die, no matter how hard she tries to keep them alive.

Daryl will be better off without her, so he has to know what she did, has to understand that she’s not who he thought she was, that she’s not a woman he’d want to make love with.

The silence between them is heavy, there’s a frown on his face while he tries to understand what can’t ever be understood.

“Why?” he finally asks, sitting up straight, his shoelaces dangling on the ground.

He shouldn’t even ask, should look at her with the disdain she deserves. She’s killed a child and no reason in the world will ever make this right.

“Why, Carol?”

It’s her name that’s doing her in, snaps her out of her trance. He hardly ever uses it, so it sends a shiver right down her back each time it rolls off his lips.

She takes a deep, ragged breath, averting her eyes. Knowing she deserves it, doesn’t make it easier to wait for his gaze turning cold, for the condemnation that will radiate off him once he understands.

“She… Lizzie believed walkers weren’t bad, that they were just another form of life, that they deserved our help. She... she was the one who killed all the mice back at the prison.”

She shook her head.

“Back at the grove, where we found that cabin… when I looked outside once, I found her playing catch with a walker.”

She has to stop, swallow the tears that threaten to spill. Daryl doesn’t say a thing and she’s still not looking up, can’t.

“That day, Tyreese and I left her with Mika and Judith for a while, just a short while, and when we came back she had killed Mika. She wanted to show us that transitioning into a walker wasn’t a bad thing. And she was holding that bloody knife in her hands, wanted to do the same to Judith who sat on a blanket beside her.”

Her tears spill after all. She's thought there weren’t any left but she was wrong. There seems to be an endless supply of grief, and she starts to think she’ll never be done crying until the days she dies.

Morgan shouldn’t have saved her. She's been ready to die.

She isn't sure she believes in heaven or hell any longer, but she doesn’t want to wake up one morning to the realization she’s become the monster she tried to protect her daughter from.

“I… we got Judith away from her. I spoke to Tyreese, but… it was my idea. I took her out. I shot her.”

She finally looks up but can’t discern the look on Daryl’s face through the tears clouding her vision.

“I shot a child, Daryl.”

Her words almost ring shrill in this room blanketed in silence. Daryl still doesn’t speak and annoyed she can’t see him clearly, she wipes her eyes until she’s able to focus on him again. His face is impassive, but there’s a storm of emotions waging war in the depth of his eyes.

A few years ago he’d voiced his thoughts without thinking twice but he’s changed. Nowadays he doesn't talk much at all.

“Tyreese was weak,” he finally says and it’s not what she’s expected him to say.

“Tyreese’s got nothing to do with this. I shot Lizzie.”

She’ll repeat it as often as she has to until he finally understands, even if it slices right through her one time after the other.

“He’s got everything to do with it. He should’ve done it.”

“Daryl…”

“He knew about Sophia. Still he let ya go and shoot a girl.”

Sophia… she can’t think about her. She’s dead and no amount of grieving and wailing will bring her back. She's dead and it’s for the best. She’s seen what life had done to the children unlucky enough to survive. Carl and Enid… grown up way before their time. Sam died when his biggest nightmare became a reality. Sophia, though, she’s never lived through the worst of it. It’s the only consolation she has.

“He should’ve done it,” Daryl repeats. “ And ya forgot something, ya know.”

She frowns, not understanding but feeling too tired to try to puzzle out what he’s trying to tell her.

“What?”

“You saved Judith.”

“I…”

She doesn’t know what she’s been meaning to reply and he doesn’t give her the time to find out.

“Don’t. Stop beating yourself up.”

He gets up from his bed, makes a step only to almost stumble thanks to his unlaced shoes. Cursing, he steps out of them, kicks them to the side.

“You’re not a monster.”

Just like that he’s voiced her darkest thought, dismissing it in the same heartbeat.

He walks over to her, pulling her against his chest just like he’s done after Maggie and she had killed all those saviors. It seems like ages ago.

She wants to shove him away. She doesn’t deserve his support. Of course he ignores her, just tightens his hold.

“No one ever tell ya that monster don’t feel, that monsters don’t cry?”

Monster don't feel...

Sometimes she doesn’t feel. Most of the time she feels too much. She feels too much right now.

“You’re not a monster.”

She doesn’t want to cry again and still can’t stop it. There’s a broken sound and she realizes she’s sobbing now, her tears quickly soaking through Daryl’s shirt. She wants to let go of him, needs him to leave for his own sake, so why is she tightening her hold on him as if he’s a lifeline. She’s tainted, not capable of love and he deserves so much better.

So why isn’t she able to be strong one last time?

She almost laughs out as the truth is staring her right in the eye. Because no matter how often she tries to kick him away, he won't budge. She’s told him her worst secret and he’s still here. If that didn't get him to turn his back on her, nothing will get him to move anywhere. She knows him, just like he knows her. Still...

She wants the flow of tears to stop, so she can make him see leaving would be best for him but she can’t. The flood has broken the damn and she wonders if she’ll end up lost in the maelstrom of her emotions for good.

She hasn’t cried like that in forever but she’s safe now, safe with him, always has been. When she still was too weak to survive in this new world on her own, she’s felt save with him. She’s known he’d look out for her.

She doesn’t need him to look out for her any longer, still, she’s better for being with him.

Time passes and she hardly notices. She can’t stop thinking of Lizzie, the broken body they’d picked up from the ground to bury it beside her sister, can’t stop thinking of Mika’s dead eyes that held nothing of the gentle warmth they had in life. She thinks of Sophia.

She doesn’t want to, doesn’t think she can bear it and she feels her legs suddenly giving up underneath her.

Daryl picks her up when she would’ve crumbled on the floor, carries her over to his bed where he puts, her down with so much care as if she might break the very next moment.

Separated from him she feels cold, alone, curls up in fetal position. She thinks he’ll leave her now but he’s with her again the next moment, lying down beside her, tangling their limbs until she doesn’t know where she begins and he ends. She’s still crying and he’s holding on so tight she wonders if she’ll break for after all.

There is no consolation right now, not as long as her thoughts are with her little girl, with Sophia. She remembers it like yesterday, how Sophia has looked like right after she was born. Red-faced and screaming at the world, Sophia’s small fist had held on to one her fingers while her hungry mouth latched onto her breast, seeking nourishment and protection.

She thinks of Sophia on her first day of school, how relieved her girl has been that her first tooth had fallen out the night ago, so she was finally one of the big girls.

She remembers the look of absolute terror on Sophia’s face the day school had ended early and she came home to find her mother crying in the bathroom, one eye swollen shut, her lips cracked and bleeding, one arm hanging limp at her side. She’d meant to clean up herself as good as she could and find an excuse to park Sophia with the neighbors while she went to the ER. In the end she’s done it anyway but only after she consoled a child that shouldn’t have to see something like that ever.

She sobs harder and as much as she doesn’t want her mind to go that way, she’s back at the farm with the barn door releasing a hissing creature that wears the clothes of her little girl but is just another dead body needing to be put down.

For twelve long years she only ever had one goal, to raise her daughter as safely as possibly, to see her grow up into a woman that would leave their abysmal household behind and never look back. In the end she wasn’t there when her daughter died and she would never know how much Sophia had to suffer, how afraid she’s been before she died.

If she had watched her daughter instead of looking for newer and nicer clothes to wear…

“You were right,” she says, her voice rough, her throat feelings raw.

“Right with what?” he asks,

“I should’ve watched her. Sophia… she might still be alive if I only watched her.”

He tenses up for a moment, the topic as raw for him as it is for her, she knows. He’s almost lost his life looking for Sophia and still couldn’t save her. It will always weigh on him, just like losing Beth will weigh on him, another one he’d wanted to save and couldn’t.

“Naw,” he says. “No fuckin’ way. Ya couldn’t have known about the walkers. None of us did. Could’ve been Carl for all that matters. I wasn’t right.”

She will never forget the way he screamed at her, was right in her face when she found him near his tent after dark. While she couldn’t have stopped her natural reaction to him lifting his hand, she hasn't been afraid. He wasn’t like Ed, would never be. Although hitting her would’ve hurt less than the words he uttered instead.

“I think you were.”

“Ya need to stop. Ya can’t blame yourself for everything, just can’t. We’re all dealing with this fuckin’ shit the best we can. That’s all we can do.”

She takes in a big, shuddering gulp of air, her tears having stopped falling after all.

“That’s it, Daryl. I can’t deal with this any longer. I just can’t.”

He withdraws a little so he can look at her, his gaze meeting hers in what is almost a challenge.

“Then don’t. I’ll deal with it for ya. Just need ya to…,” he stops but he’s not looking away.

“Need me to what?” she finally asks when it seems he’ll never finish that sentence.

His jaw clenches, then he speaks.

“I need ya to live. I need ya with me. Just lemme take care of you.”

Not that long ago, she’d be the first one to tell him she could take care of herself. She still could, it was just that she didn’t want to any longer.

“You’ll be better off without me.”

“Don’t wanna be better off,” he says and she almost relishes his anger, as if she could let his strong emotions kindle hers.

“You should.”

“Forget it. You want to be here, I’ll be here. Ya try and get rid of me, it won’t work.”

The smallest of smiles plays around her lips for a moment. She knows he speaks the truth. If he sets his mind on something he tends to be the most mulish man around.

“Why?” she asks.

She knows the answer, but she needs to hear it.

There’s fear in his eyes and although his hold on her is as strong as it was before she feels his muscles tensing. Fight or flight. He can't fight with her so he'd love to flee. He should.

She doesn’t speak again, waits. It’s his decision. He, too, is a survivor of domestic abuse, only his has started as a child, has formed the very core of the man he was now. Emotions scared him more than any walker, any fight, ever could.

She can’t play their game any longer though, especially after what has happened between them three days ago. Knowing him as well as she did, she’d never expected him capable of such a forward move.

She still doesn’t know everything about the night her family was captured by Negan, he just won’t tell, but it has changed something in him.

They all have changed, were changing all the time while trying to adapt to this new world where the worst monsters weren’t walkers but people. Is that a world she even wants to be part of you? Maybe she just isn't made for this, should extinguish this tiny flame of resistance that tells her to hold on. Venturing out the ASZ she might not have looked for death but she would have embraced it anyway.

He finally speaks, distracting her from her thoughts.

“I need ya. I… love ya.”

He is looking into the distance, retreating into himself while he keeps holding on. Her heart breaks a little for him, knows he fears her rejection. Yet, he's still here. He’s facing the music and a measure of pride surges through her. He’s come so far and she wishes he could see what she sees.

“You shouldn’t, Daryl.”

She speaks softly and his eyes find hers and there’s anger and desperation.

“It’s not up to ya if I love ya or not.”

She shakes her head, wants to move out of his embrace. He’s having none of it.

“Whatever ya got to say, say it to my face. Now.”

She always thought she was so much better at this than he is. It seems she’s been wrong. About a lot of things. She thought she was numb but if she is, why has she cried like this today. If she is, why is the thought of voicing her own feelings striking terror in her heart.

She knows she would’ve fallen in love with him no matter what but knowing that it was most likely it would never amount to anything has made it so much easier to deal with her feelings. They were both damaged people in a damaged world, what hope was there for anything good, anything real?

“Tell me,” he says and she knows she owes him that much.

As if to prove a point to him, she keeps his gaze although it makes her whole body tingle with anxiety.

“I love you, Daryl. And I wish I didn’t. I’m broken…”

“But not beyond repair. Ya survived worse.”

“It’s… too much to handle. I…can’t.”

“Sure, ya can. Share that fuckin’ problems and we deal with them”

She starts to laugh and cry at the same time. What in this world is she going to do with him?

“I don’t know how.”

“And I do?”

He laughs out, a harsh sound.

“I don’t care. We need to live now. Could be dead tomorrow anyway.”

She hears the pain in his voice and it tugs at her heartstrings. How could she ever have thought it was a good thing to start something with Tobin? He never meant anything to her. She only wanted to feel something good and the next day, when he looked at her with so much hope and love… she didn't know what to do with it. So she tried to convince herself he was good for her, had kept her mask firmly in place until she couldn’t any longer.

There’s only place for one man in her heart, and it’s the one who refuses to let her go. The redneck and the beaten housewife, who would’ve thought? It sounds like the perfect match in hell and hell is what they’re facing day after day.

Facing the haunted look in his eyes, she knows he needs to share his burdens just as she has shared hers.

“You need to tell me,” she says. “Please.”

“What?”

“You know what. Who died, Daryl? Tell me.”

“You’re going to come back with me?”

Could she? Should she?

While she wouldn’t say she’s content at the Kingdom, it’s a place she can rest her body, her mind. It’s a peaceful community, knowing how to face what is going on behind their walls but demanding a peaceful life within. She’s spoken to Ezekiel more than once and she feels a certain respect for him, although she can’t help but think he’s doomed. It’s a world where survival of the fittest, the most brutal , rules supreme. He’s holding his fort but for how long? Although if he aligned himself with Hilltop, the ASZ, who knew. They might be able to fight for a better living for all three communities.

She stops her train of thought. She can’t think like this, doesn’t want to. All this scheming… she’s beyond tired of thinking for everybody else.

“Carol, ya coming back with me?”

She thinks about him leaving while she stayed. She wants him to go and find his happiness without her yet, she finds she can’t bear the thought. They’ve been separated too often before.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll ever be alright again.”

“Don’t need ya to. So what’s it goin’ to be?”

“I’ll go with you.”

The words were whispered, they scare her, but they manage to make Daryl smile, if only for a second. His face falls and she sees tears building in his eyes. Leaning closer, he rests his head on the crown of hers, finally giving her the name of Negan’s victim.

“God, no.”

She takes a shuddering breath, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. It can’t be, can it? After all they've been through together? God… please… no… She can’t accept this, just can’t. And what about the others?

Rick, how does he deal with this? Did he succumb to madness once again? After all, it’s been him who made the decision to make them the aggressor and attack Negan. He made them mercenaries instead of simple people defending themselves against the world they lived in. Now they all were paying the price.

Her mind is whirling, and she feels Daryl crying silently, his body trembling like a leave.

“You need to tell me. Tell me everything.”

He’s been willing to carry her burden, now it’s her time to carry his. It takes him a moment - her heart beating painfully heart in her chest while she's waiting - until he can calm enough to start speaking. It hurts to listen to his recount of the night of their capture and it takes every ounce of her strength left not to give in to the storm of feelings that wants to consume her.

She might not have any strength left for herself but she'll find some last reserve for Daryl. What he and the others went through... how can they ever come back from this? They had many close calls before but they didn't have to watch while one of their family was beaten to death.

When he stops speaking, silence falls between them and it's sad and heavy. There are no words that will make this situation any better. None. She takes a deep, shaking breath and for an insane moment she wishes she's been there. Maybe Negan would've loved taking revenge on her for killing so many of his men and women? She could've saved the others and her own misery would've found an end. No... life didn't work this way. From what she heard Negan, if indeed he would've wanted immediate revenge, would have gone for the one person she couldn't bear losing.

Out of impulse, she pulls back a little so she can scoot up the bed, place a kiss on Daryl's forehead just as she's done twice before. It's a chaste gesture, brief and innocent, yet he trembles again and when their eyes meet she's met with raw vulnerability.

She's never seen him like this, not even after Beth's death. This is a man who's been through hell one time too many. He's lost and so is she. Still, with him around she can think more clearly, the fog of her lethargy lifting slightly, her life, so black and white, filling with colors once more. Love and pain, two sides of the same coin. Looking at him she feels both, the intensity taking her breath away.

Moving without conscious decision, she kisses his forehead again, her hands resting on his cheeks, holding him in place. She moves on, tiny kisses on his face. He watches her the whole time.

Stopping just short of kissing his mouth, she realizes that this is it. She's been hiding most of her adult live. She can't hide any longer. Daryl knows her, the real her and he wants her in spite of everything, has made it his mission to find her even after surviving hell. He told her truth, he needs her. They're both independent creatures, fit to survive on their own but they still need each other. Being with the other is the difference between being alive and living.

“I'm broken,” she whispers, wanting to give him a last out.

“Don't care,” he mumbles, his breath hot against her lips.

She only has to lean forward to bridge the small distance between them, yet she hesitates, knows she won't be able to stop once she does.

They did this once before but then it was an explosion of feelings, of needs. This... it's intimate, will seal a bond that will only be broken by death.

She doesn't believe in love at first sight, doesn't believe there's only that one person for anyone. The two of them, though, they're the only ones who will ever know the depths of the other. No one else will ever truly understand.

She's tired of her own thoughts and leaning in her lips brush his, the contact all but fleeting yet making her tingle. She withdraws but it's not what the wants as he's following her lips with his, keeping still for a long moment before he begins an exploration of her mouth, bringing their lips together time after time, each time longer than the one before.

She's breathless once more although this time it's because love and desire are holding her captive. She moans when he tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth. He lets go, laves the spot with his tongue and she parts her lip in invitation. He doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue inside her mouth. She whimpers and her tongue meets his, the two of them tangling in a shy, yet sensuous dance. She's never been kissed like that before, the tenderness making tears sting behind her closed eyelids.

This has to be what loves feels like.

They have to part for breath and she leans her forehead against his. When their lips find each other again, its she's who's taking her time to explore his mouth. She knows everything about him but his body, wants to learn what pleases him, what brings him joy.

She startles when he rolls them over so she is suddenly on top of him. Her eyes open, find his and he's looking at her with an expression that makes clear he's done hiding his feeling. He loves her and she would have to deal with it. End of the story.

He lifts his hands, let them rest lightly at her waist but then he stills. She's in control now and for a moment she's lost. While she's been the one who kissed Tobin first, she hasn't taken control afterwards, she never has.

“Kiss me,” he rasps as if guessing where her thoughts have ventured.

Refusing to retreat into the hell of her own thoughts, she leans forwards, letting the feelings that his touch creates in her take over.

Kissing him deeply, he groans out and she moves her legs so she can straddle him and she feels his cock hardening against her. She barely swallows a moan, is aroused herself, her panties soaked with her desire for this particular man. Her core clenches at the thought of feeling him inside her again. Brief as their time together was, she's never felt like that before.

In spite of her need, she refuses to be rushed. Not this time. She's never made love before but she wants to try, wants to give him all of herself. He'll give her the same in return, she knows.

Breaking their kiss, she moves lower, kissing a trail down his neck, stops when she reaches his shirt.

Sitting up, she allows her hands to wander the span of his broad shoulders, going lower so she can start unbuttoning his shirt. He tenses, a reaction to being as self-conscious about his body as she is.

She doesn't hesitate, doesn't stop until she's done with the last button, parting the halves to bare his chest to her sight. He hasn't stopped her and it's all she needs to know. They maybe be anxious, scarred on the outside and inside, as long as there's trust they will be okay.

To her he's perfect anyway, with all his flaws and hang-ups. That's the magic of love she supposes, a thought giving her pause. She hasn't loved since Sophia, is afraid that everything and everyone she loves is going to die.

No, no, she can't think like that.

Placing kisses all over his chest, the sparse hair tickling her nose and lips, her lips hover over a nipple, the tiny erect bud waiting for her attention. She looks up, finds Daryl watching her. He's still weary. She'd be, too.

If he can't stop thinking, if he can't stop being afraid, she's got to make him.

Swiping her tongue over his nipple once, she blows on it, almost smiling when tiny goose bumps appear in the area around it and Daryl moans out. It's a sound she needs to hear more of, so she closes her lips around the tiny bud, suckling it before biting it lightly.

She loses herself in her exploration of him and when she switches to the other nipple, she's tweaking the abandoned one between her thumb and forefinger. Her own arousal feels almost painful by now, her body longing for Daryl's touch.  
The need of her soul to touch him wins over the one of her body and she moves down the bed a bit more, her tongue following her path, circling his belly button before diving in. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees his fingers fisting the bedding underneath him. She's obviously doing something right.

Kissing him right over the waistband of his pants, she sits up.

“These need to go.”

It's the first words they've spoken in minutes and her voice is deep, rough. She can't hide she wants him, doesn't want to anyway.

Instead of replying, he sits up, carefully lifting her of his lap. Together, they work his pants and underwear off him, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss once he's fully naked.

“Want to see ya, too,” he says when he parts from her, his breathing as ragged as hers.

She nods, her hands going for her own shirt and he's watching her intently, his hands balled into fists. It's almost as if she knows what he's thinking.

“You can help me, you know,” she says.

She's not afraid of his touch, quite the contrary, her body is hungering for it as she has never hungered for another's touch. For long years during her marriage she thought Ed has, if not killed her spirits, killed her desire, but she knows for quite some time that he hasn't. She wanted Daryl for a long time, since the prison, just it has never been the right time for them. It might not be the right time now either but she stopped caring.

Daryl, he's not Ed and she's not afraid of him. He won't hurt her. It's a knowledge deeply ingrained into the molecules of her very being. She watches his fists unclench and his fingers are trembling. Desire or fear, she doesn't know. She takes his in hers, guides them to the buttons of her shirt.

“Help me?” she says again.

He still hesitates.

“Please,” she adds and he finally meets her gaze.

While he doesn't reply verbally, he unbuttons the rest of her shirt quickly, discarding it on the ground without another look. A growl escapes him and before she realizes his intent, his mouth has latched onto one of her nipples, sucking it, rolling it around with his tongue.

She moans out, even as she smiles. He'll surely never make a really smooth lover but will always be a honest one. And damn her, if this doesn't feel good. Letting go of her nipple he wastes no time, giving the other the same treatment. Her hands wind into his hair , holding him in place, enjoying the feel of the tangled strands.

Pulling away, he briefly looks up, meets her gaze, his eyes displaying such a hunger now, it takes her breath away.

She gasps when he cups both of her breasts, pushing them against each other so he can easily alternate between sucking one nipple, then the other.

Pleasure uncoils in her belly, her core feeling so very empty while her clit throbs almost painfully. She needs more, can't wait any longer. Letting go of his hair, she reaches around herself to unfasten her bra, sliding it down her arms.

“You gotta let go for a second,” she half speaks, half moans and for a second she wonders if Daryl has even heard her.

But then he complies, leans back, impatience and want written all over his face, though he quickly schools his features. It makes her want to weep. She knows how badly he hungers for her , still he's willing to slow down, to do right by her. She'll always come first for him just as much as he'll always come first for her.

She wants to speak but he shakes his head, speaks first.

“Wanna taste ya again.”

It's her choice. If she says no, he won't. He's done it last time, to get her off when he finished before her. Now he wants to do it just for the sake of doing it. The thought of saying no crosses her mind. This... it's too intimate. She remembers Ed going down on her one time sometime after he's shown his true colors. He's taunted her, telling her how repulsive she was to him. He licked her slit exactly once before spitting out, right onto the mattress beside her. It's not even that she'd wanted him to do it but as everything else then, it had been a power play, his way to put her into her place.

“It's okay,” Daryl says now.

She wonders how long she's been caught up in her own thoughts, if he understands this is not about her but her demons.

“No...I... I'd like you to try.”

“I'm not Ed,” he says and the breath catches in her lungs.

Yes, he knows her.

“You're not,” she agrees and with her heart beating in a hard, fast rhythm, she strips out of her pants and panties, lies down on the bed before spreads her legs in invitation. She's afraid, aroused. She can't do this, can she?

He smiles at her, one of those small smirks that are so him and it warms her from the inside. Settling in between her legs, he doesn't get down to business as she kinda expects him to. Instead he follows her earlier example, mapping out her body with his lips and tongue, even with his teeth when he closes his lips around one of her nipples. It's good, so good and while she doubts she'll be able to chase the shadow of Ed away for good this time, it's enough that pleasure reigns over anxiousness. By the time he kisses her right underneath her navel she shivers.

Soon he'll touch her where she needs him to. Her body obviously hasn't gotten the message that she's afraid.

Lifting his head, he slides down the bed, surprising her with licking a wet trail from the inside of one knee all the way up her inner thigh, stopping short of caressing her labia. He repeats the process with her other leg and she's panting by now.

For some reason she's thought physical intimacy with him would always be like it had been their first time, fast and a bit rough. He's slow, so very slow now, his touches gentle.

She should've known better. He wouldn't have managed to keep their family alive with his hunting if he didn't know how to be patient.

He's pausing now and she feels his warm breath against her core. It clenches in reaction and she opens eyes that she must have closed, looking at him.

He's looking at her, too, waiting for her final consent.

“Please,” she says and she can't help the brief stab of anxiety.

If she'd dared asking Ed for anything there'd have been dire consequences to pay. Damn it, this is Daryl. Daryl. She can't...

He licks a slow trail along the length of her slit and she trembles, all thoughts abandoned while he takes his time, letting his tongue explore all of her, teasing the outside of her labia, parting her folds to gather some of her wetness with his tongue.

She moans out loudly when his tongue dives into her without forewarning, her inner walls clenching around it.

He pulls away, licking his way up to her pleasure point, circling the tiny nub a few times. It's the fact his touch is light that it's making that much better, that pushes her closer and closer to the edge. She wants him to never stop. Too soon he moves on once again though, starts lapping at her as if she can quench a thirst in him he didn't know he had.

She doesn't realize that one of her hands has wound its way into his hair as if trying to make sure he won't abandon her while the other begins stroking a painfully erect nipple.

When she realizes what she's doing she almost stops. This is wanton and she's never acted this way before. She never had reason to before. She closes her eyes, refuses to give in to doubt and conditioning. She's worth more than that.

She hears Daryl moan when she pinches her nipple, though then it's her turn to gasp when he closes his lips around her clit, suckles it gently, at the same time sliding one finger inside her.

To her surprise it's all that her body needs to cross this final threshold, her body tensing as sparks of pleasure echo through her, stealing her breath while she can feel the sensations reverberating through her whole body, down to her toes which curl from the sheer intensity. He starts licking her again, but it's too much now. She hardly manages to gasp out a stop but he understands anyway, backs away at once, resting his head on her thigh while he strokes her stomach in concentric circles.

She has no idea how long she's been a prisoner of her feelings but when she opens her eyes, she finds him watching her. The way he looks so entirely at peace goes straight to her heart, and she smiles.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head, his stubble rough against her skin.

“Naw. Gotta thank ya.”

It's typical Daryl. Doesn't he know he deserves love and peace just as much as every man does?

She has no idea what will happen once she stops riding this high, she only knows it's not time to face reality again yet.

“Will you...,” she starts but stops as she's never asked anyone this before. Not Ed and certainly not Tobin. They had sex but she's never been with him all the way.

“Will you make love to me?” she whispers and she shouldn't have been afraid of his reaction because he moves so fast, she's surprised when he climbs up the bed, only to grasp her by her waist and turn them again.

“Ya take whatever ya need from me,” he says, his hand coming up, cupping her cheek. She leans into the touch. There's no way she could love him more than she does now, the feeling so strong it hurts in its very own way. She might not be able to tell him now, but she can show him.

Moving up on legs that aren't quite steady yet, she grasps his cock, stroking the silken skin a few times before lowering herself. He slides inside without problem, still, she takes it slow, only relishes her grip on him when she's sure she can take it all.

They both moan out and she braces herself with her hands against his chest. She hasn't known this could feel so good. Leaning down, she brushes her lips against his in a soft kiss. She's already forgotten how good this feels, how good he tastes and she deepens the kiss, only breaking it when she feels she's suffocating. Sitting upright once more, she lifts her hips until she's almost released all of him before sliding down again. Her inner walls grip his cock tightly and she wonders if she only imagines him pulsing in reaction.

She repeats the action, then another time and another time, slowly increasing her rhythm. Daryl's groans are the sweetest music to her ears, and she cries out her pleasure when his broad hands cover her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling her nipples. She can feel it all the way in her core, and it's good, so good, even though she knows she won't be able to come this way. It doesn't matter. She feels good. She feels... it's not even a day since she doubted she's able to but now she does. She wants to give Daryl what he's given her.

“Tell me what to do,” he says, and she needs a second to understand what he's asking of her. He wants to know how he can make her come again. She doesn't know. How could she? She's never been in this position before, no one has ever asked her this. She stops all movement, shrugs, laughs out.

'”I don't know.”

“We're quite a pair, huh?” he says and she nods her agreement.

“It doesn't matter,” she says, beginning to move again, faster this time.

It's not the time for talk but to give and receive pleasure and seeing the pleasure on Daryl's face is like a drug she could get used to.

Letting go of one of her breasts, he slides his hand between her legs, his fingers lightly gliding over her clit. Her breath catches and she thinks she could come like this if only... He's observant but not a mind readers, so she covers her hand with his, shows him how to touch her so that he's almost driving her out of her mind. He follows her lead without question and picking up her rhythm she knows she's lost. It's not a minute until the pressure building up inside her detonates, leaves her shaking, moaning. This time she keeps her eyes open, meets Daryl's gaze, the love and hunger for her he's not even trying to hide.

Her legs are too weak from pleasure and she sinks down on Daryl about to apologize when he's puts his hand onto her waist, lifting her while bucking into her at the same time. There's no rhythm to it and he has to be close as he growls out, stilling a moment before thrusting inside her a few more times.

He seems to sink even deeper into the mattress and feeling just as exhausted, she carefully separates them before she spreads out over his body. His warm hands trail up and down her back while she listens to the beating of his heart. They are alive, the both of them and for the first time in ever so long she thinks it might not be the worst thing.

“Ya promised,” he says sounding drowsy.

“Promised what?”

“To stay with me.”

He's still worried and she can't blame him. She knows she'll think about shutting him out again, maybe will want to flee from him and her feelings . She's promised though and so won't act on these feelings if they'll come to haunt her.

“I will.”

“Good.”

They don't exchange any more words and soon his hands still, his even breathing telling her he's asleep. She should move, so they'd be more comfortable but finds she's too tired, too content. She falls asleep and no nightmares haunt her for once.


End file.
